


Scent of Spring

by Annabelle_W



Series: Angel Wings [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels Have Visible Wings (Supernatural), M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabelle_W/pseuds/Annabelle_W
Summary: Castiel has nearly given up on finding a mate after centuries alone, when he finally catches the scent of a compatible mate.  Unfortunately, that scent belongs to Sam Winchester, who is only interested in stealing his brother back from the powerful archangel who mated him.This is a timestamp for "Scents, Subterfuge, and Angel Wings," showing Sam and Castiel's first meeting from Castiel's perspective.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Dean Winchester
Series: Angel Wings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808119
Kudos: 18





	Scent of Spring

I drift behind the procession, keeping an eye on the human bystanders for any dangerous or unusual behavior while my angelic cohorts focus on Gabriel's ritualized mate search. Their pink (or red) wings flutter in excitement each time their father (or grandfather, in some cases) bends before a kneeling candidate, in hopes that this is the one who will grant their fun-loving sire much-deserved happiness (and, maybe, give them a baby sibling to adore). Their human mates lean around cheerful plumage or stand on tiptoe to peer over dancing feathers, displaying fully as much investment in today's potential results as their companions.

Perhaps I would share more of their enthusiasm if the (likely) hundreds of these ceremonies I've attended ever resulted in a mate of my own.

"These events must get boring for you after awhile." The speaker slowly rises to her feet, carefully making sure to display her assets to best affect. The rest of the rejected suitors sit comfortably, chatting quietly as they observe Gabriel's progress down the rows. This young lady must have noticed the black hue of my wings (signifying my single status) and decided to try for another angel, since Gabriel wasn't interested. It's not like it's the first time a human has thrown herself (or, rarely, himself) at me.

An arm lands across my shoulders. "Yes, our sweet Cassie is bound to die of tedium should this take much longer." Balthazar to the rescue, apparently. His bright wings rise in a display of strength and protectiveness.

My lips curve upwards. Am I ever grateful Balthazar was among those Gabriel chose as attendants! 

Another voice joins in. "We'll keep him entertained, won't we, honey?" Donna grins at her mate.

My accoster flashes an irritated glance at my friends. "I can entertain him," she insists, in a bald attempt to sound sultry.

Will I have to smell her pale, unappetizing neck in order to convince her of my utter lack of interest?

A sudden commotion answers that question in a delightful negative. Uncle Gabriel found his mate!

Balthazar huffs beside me. "We missed it!--I wanted to see who he chose."

Donna nods. "Me, too. I was hoping for a handsome man."

He takes her hand. "Same, darling." They kiss.

I roll my eyes, but I can't suppress the stab of envy that pierces me at the sight of their easy affection and camaraderie. Will my wings remain black and lonely forever?

*

My angelic cousins and I move closer to the mating pair, ready to protect our leader should an unknown assailant take advantage of his current vulnerability, while also providing him with a small measure of privacy.

The field blooms with energy and gaiety as it hits the townspeople that they witness a historic event--that their home will forever be remembered as the place where an archangel found his third (and, hopefully, final) mate. I frown, pondering what it would be like to know that you could experience the unbearable grief of outliving your consort. I've always been comforted by the knowledge that, as a seraph, I will die when my mate breathes his (or her?) last, and that the two of us will share an eternal afterlife. 

Still, my somber thoughts once again place me at odds with those around me.

A screech in the form of the word "No!" assaults my rumination. A young man launches toward the increasingly passionate lovers. To attack them? I've pinned his arms to his sides and stopped his momentum before my brain can consider other alternatives. Gabriel will not be interrupted. 

The man in my arms stops squirming when he discovers his ample muscles are no match for my angelic strength. Good. There's a logical brain beneath that impulsivity. 

And speaking of ample muscles . . . .

He must be wearing three or four layers, but there's no mistaking that the body in my grip is firm and toned. Not to mention tall. He must tower over me by about half a foot. And. A tantalizing scent wafts past my nose. Is that-?

Cheering erupts in the courtyard.

The mating must be complete.

I loosen my grasp on the giant blocking my view so that I can confirm my assumption. He promptly rips himself free and strides a few paces out of reach after leaping to his full, impressive height. I feel strangely bereft as I watch Gabriel's now golden wings flare as he lifts his new consort--a male--to his feet.

My gaze speeds back to the stranger, justified by my reminding myself that I must keep a wary eye on him in case he tries to charge Gabriel again.

Which he does.

I'm far too eager to grab him, far too ready to feel his rippled chest against my fingers. 

This time he fights, flails, biceps bulging as he lifts me off my feet in an effort to throw me off. He could effortlessly pin me to the wall while pounding into me.

I blink. Where did that thought come from?

And why am I unable to resist running my hands slowly down his arms instead of swiftly releasing him upon Gabriel's safe getaway?

The boy yanks himself from my reach, spins around. To screech obscenities at me? Or-

I should go. I ready my wings but don't fly until I've imprinted his chiseled features and exotic multicolored eyes in my head.

It's not until I've landed at Gabriel's mansion that I realize I'm leaking slick for the first time in my existence.

*

I'm a bit of an anomaly in angelic circles. It isn't entirely unheard of for a male to have child-bearing capabilities (or for a female to possess male genitalia) but it's extremely rare. So rare that my closest relatives aren't quite sure what to do with me. Some of the males treat me like I'm made of porcelain. Some of the females treat me like I'm another sister or girl cousin. Some thrust me in front of every alpha male who passes by while others introduce me to a constant stream of human women, either out of scientific interest to see who winds up the top, or from a misguided hope that mating a female will turn me 'normal.'

What makes all of this even more frustrating is the fact that the frequency of same-sex pairings means that plenty of human mates become intersex when their bodies change to the ageless perfection of angelic mates.

At least when I spend time with Gabriel's family, I stand out more obviously for my unmated blue-black feathers than my sex.

*

This is one of many reasons why I choose to manage one of my uncle's estates instead of caretaking one of my own father's houses or even setting up my own home, complete with a career in a nearby city.

Plus I enjoy the work.

And the human servants I interact with only view me as 'other' because of my angelic heritage. It's nice, sometimes, to have a choice for the reasons why you are viewed as unusual.

This season's group of humans seem especially affable, though I suppose it helps that I'm familiar with most of them. When I assign their positions, they shake my hand, informing me enthusiastically how glad they are to be back, how much they love working here.

A glance into their minds shows me the complete sincerity of these sentiments.

The room fairly glows with goodwill.

And yet, I sense a foreign element, perhaps a new hire or an irritable someone in desperate need of coffee. Our servants are thoroughly vetted, so it's unlikely an individual with nefarious goals slipped into the cast, but it's not impossible. There's a reason why I peer into the surface thoughts of each person.

I give a small man with the unassuming name of Chuck the job he craved--that of my personal manservant before moving to the person beside him.

I look up, up, up to recognize the unruly, beguiling individual from the mating ceremony.

Our eyes meet.

I gaze into and through beautiful color-changing eyes to find the reason why someone who seemed so opposed to angels, so angry with us, would want to work for us. Could he be a plant from a hate group or a domestic terrorism organisation? 

(I hope not).

No. He only wants to kidnap Gabriel's new mate. Because . . . oh!--Dean's his brother. And he's convinced Gabriel has him under a spell, specifically a brother-forgetting, happiness-forcing, love spell. Ah, silly humans. Silly humans who fall for anti-angel propaganda. Still, this misconception should resolve itself in a few months when the lovebirds return from their honeymoon. Based on how close these brothers are, Dean is sure to send for--what's this man's name?--Sam.

I'm on the verge of disconnecting our brains and sending Sam on his way (with a few well-intentioned hints) when I catch wind of another covert strategy in that brilliant head.

The lonely shade of my plumage has him contemplating ensuring himself a secure spot in Gabriel's court--and Dean's proximity--by becoming my mate.

Mate.

The nameless person who fills my imagination when I think that word strongly resembles the man before me. Tall, powerful, handsome, loyal (though not to me). I wonder-

I pull his huge shoulders down, bury my nose in his throat.

He smells like the woodfires my father used to keep us warm when I was a child; he smells like the ancient tomes in our secret library; he smells like the pine forest Hannah and I spent hours exploring as cherubs. He smells like home. Like mate.

I can't let him leave my side.

Not until he realizes we belong together.

"Yes," I tell him, "You will work with me."


End file.
